


Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back

by Anonymous



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Hand Jobs, I'm Bad At Tagging, Janson is manipulative, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Really milking the word count here guys, So he goes exploring, Thomas can’t sleep, Thomas is a teenage boy, and it betrays him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Thomas is less nosy and Aris doesn’t immediately approach him, so they spend a little more time at Janson’s facility than is canon. Janson is a manipulative son of a bitch and will do anything to change the subject (set at the start of The Scorch Trials movie).
Relationships: Assistant Director Janson | Rat Man/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back

**Author's Note:**

> I realise I’m a bit late to the Maze Runner party, but let’s just call it fashionable. I’m also no good at writing smut, but I wanted to create a very specific dynamic between these two.

Thomas rolled over on the bunk. It was the most comfortable bed he could remember laying on, which wasn't saying much, but he still couldn't get to sleep. He was anxious. About everything, about nothing. He didn't want to find out that he'd just lead his friends from a deadly Griever attack straight into another dangerous glue trap disguised as a refuge of safety. His unease carried on into the night until around twelve, when he finally accepted that he was doomed to consciousness. 

He swung his legs over the bunk, careful not to wake the others. Not that anything could have roused the snoring bunch. He pulled on the dull grey socks he'd been given, to fend off the cold floor and crept over to the heavy submarine-like door. His fingers pried at the handle. He hadn't expected it to open, but it came loose surprisingly easily. He didn't know why he felt the need to explore at this hour. Maybe the sense of unrest had finally caught up to him and his subconscious was screaming at him to dig, find out anything he could about this place. 

His feet padded along the corridor, heading aimlessly toward the cafeteria. He stuck his head through the door. Of course it was empty but he still felt a small slice of disappointment, washed down once more by inquisitiveness. His shirt clung to his chest as he breathed in and out rhythmically, picking up the pace. There was no rush, just empty corridors leading in what felt like an endless circle. 

Thomas found the common area where he and Newt had played cards that one time. Neither of them had the faintest clue how to play, so they had asked several people. None of them knew either. So eventually, Thomas had reluctantly asked Janson, who had been filling in what looked like paperwork at one of the tables. He'd taught them Gin rummy. Thomas was yet to win against Newt. 

He found himself wandering into the room. He felt watched, as though he was not alone. Not that he'd felt truly alone since they arrived. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He ambled over to the couch at the back of the room, which seemed to be the only remotely colourful piece of furniture in the building. It made no noise as he plonked down onto the soft, sea blue material. 

Thomas picked up the deck of cards that still lay on the coffee table and shuffled them in his hands, long fingers delicately twirling them as if by muscle memory. Maybe he'd been a magician before the Glade. He played with them for a few minutes before a vague clicking broke the deafening silence. His ears honed in on the only noise it could and he realised it was the sound of even, precise footsteps. They were becoming more defined and he chucked the cards on the coffee table before diving behind the couch. The footsteps were in the room now. Thomas held his breath. 

"You can come out, Thomas, I know you're there" Janson's amused, soothing Irish tone reached him followed by the scraping of the door and a thunk as it closed. Thomas went an embarrassing shade of pink. 

"Sorry. It's become a habit" he shrugged sheepishly as he came out of hiding. 

"Don't apologise, kid, you lot have been through hell" Janson casually walked over to where Thomas had re-situated himself on the couch, one leg in a criss-cross position, ankle hidden under his other knee. 

Janson was without his usual coat, instead donning nicely fitting jeans and a blue turtleneck. Thomas suddenly felt awkward about his own attire. Sure, he'd been smart enough to slip on some jeans before leaving the room, but his shirt was plain and clearly not meant for public viewing. It had buttons at the top which served no real purpose other than sleep fashion, he supposed, and the colour was a deep, soulless grey to match his socks. All thoughts leave his mind when Janson sits next to him, "you couldn't sleep?" 

"Bit restless. Everything's confusing" Thomas surprised himself with his honesty. 

"What's on your mind, then, Thomas?" Either Janson was genuinely concerned, or he was gathering intelligence on Thomas, plucking it from him as easily as an apple from a tree, like he always seemed to do. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he always felt that Janson's gaze lingered on him for longer than necessary, as if he was trying to decipher what he was thinking. 

"I... the kids, the ones that get picked," he braced himself for exactly zero answers, "where do they go exactly?" 

"I told you, they get some harmless little tests done, then we send them to a safe place where our good pals WICKED can't find them. When you get picked, you'll see 'em all again" the slightest hint of annoyance crept into Janson's voice at the start of the sentence, but he soon remedied it. 

"Yeah, but where exactly? And why is it staggered, not all of us at the same time?" 

"Thomas" the warning tone followed by a hand on his thigh made him flinch a little. Thomas felt as though Janson was holding him captive with his eyes. Thomas's gaze wandered to the closed door, willing the handle to turn and save him from this awkwardness. He was snapped out of that notion as a strong hand grabbed his chin, pulling his face back to point at Janson. 

"One day, you're gonna ask questions," Janson leaned in close, breath tickling Thomas's face, "and you're gonna get some answers you don't want". 

It was a threat if Thomas had ever heard one, and suddenly he didn't feel so safe near the man. His hand hadn't left his thigh. Janson was invading his personal space, so Thomas refused to look anywhere but into those piercing blue eyes. He stood his ground, unflinching, looking up at him through his lashes. 

Thomas's eyes began to stray, though, as he realised how close they truly were. He barely registered what the man was saying as he studied him. Janson's forehead was ever so slightly creased in thought, as if he were making a decision. His high cheekbones stood out, a good facial structure. Janson's tongue darted out to glide over his lower lip as he finished his sentence, garnering Thomas's attention. The teen took a second to appreciate his appearance and oh no, his gaze had been lingering on the older man's lips and- Janson kissed him. On the mouth. He just leaned in and crashed their lips together. 

Thomas panicked. As far as he knew, this was his first kiss. 

"The fuck? What are you doing?" Thomas shoved at Janson's chest, not moving him very far. 

"What does it look like I'm doing, Thomas?" Janson answered sarcastically. He used the hand that wasn't braced between them to grasp the back of the boy's neck, pulling him in again indefinitely. The kiss was now less exploratory, more heated. 

He could think of better people to make out with, but, to be fair to Janson, he could think of worse. Gally... just Gally, actually. And Janson was a really good kisser, as well. At least, Thomas assumed he was, but his lack of comparison made it difficult to judge. 

Finally, Thomas got over his initial brain fog and made a decision. He decidedly reciprocated, figuring if Janson initiated it, it wasn't his fault. It was purely physical, certainly no emotion tied to it from either party. His hands came up to grip the older guy's waist. He was clumsily moving his lips against Janson's, who was obviously more experienced. It didn't come naturally to him, but he could feel himself getting hot because of it. Janson was almost fully facing Thomas from his spot adjacent to him, not letting him move from the backrest of the couch. 

"What about the-" Thomas, a little breathless, motioned towards the black devices in the ceiling that usually harboured red lights in their core. Tonight they were just black. 

"Don't worry, I turned those cameras off" the silver-tongued Irishman reassured quietly. Thomas had no idea whether or not to believe a word the man said, but as he was pushed against the back of the couch, he didn't really care. 

If Thomas was honest with himself for a second, he hadn't not imagined Janson making a move on him. Heck, the guy flaunted his wry smirk at any given opportunity, and it always felt pointed towards Thomas. He kissed Janson more confidently, pushing closer, but a hand on his chest told him to stay back. Instead, he clutched Janson's closest shoulder, almost scratching him through the material. 

God it was weird. But he was more turned on than he thought he'd be; Janson was feeling him up thoroughly and causing little bolts of energy in his crotch. He truly was a teenager. The older man took Thomas's lower lip between his teeth and bit down, earning a sharp, almost angry, intake of breath. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but it was pretty close. Thomas found himself whining at Janson's tongue swiping over the graze, stubble lightly brushing his chin. 

Apparently, this was Janson's cue, because he started playing with the waistband of Thomas's jeans, making sure to enjoy the younger guy's reaction. He tugged his belt loops a couple times before quickly unzipping him. 

"Janson" Thomas mumbled, a small panic rising, but he wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to say, because Janson had slipped his hand into his underwear and squeezed his already embarrassingly hard dick, "I... don't want this" 

"Wow, Thomas, that was almost believable" Janson leered, and continued. 

This was when the situation really hit Thomas, and he had to stop himself bucking into the near stranger's hand. He obviously didn't remember being with anyone, but he had assumed that he was straight. Clearly not. But then, Janson had a strange way of changing people, bending them to his will. He was hyperaware of his breathing becoming faster and he had to pull away from Janson's mouth for a second. 

The tall Irishman started stroking him, gradually at first but it soon quickened. He leaned up and kissed Janson again, who pushed back down into him, so he was against the back of the sofa again. Contained. Thomas's hand came up of its own accord to grasp Janson's waist, scrunching his fingers in the material. He again found himself breathless at Janson's seemingly expert movements. Thomas briefly wondered if he'd done this to anyone else from the respective Glades, or if he was special. Somewhere in his subconscious, his mind was telling him that this had to be one of Janson's distraction techniques to shut him up for a while. He'd have to cross that bridge when he got there. 

"Oh fuck," Thomas groaned quietly, almost unintelligibly, into his mouth. He was close. 

"Let me hear you say it," Janson ordered in a low voice, close to his ear. It startled something in the teen. 

"Fuck! Yes sir,” Thomas didn't realise what he'd said until Janson's hand slowed for just a second in surprise. 

"What did you call me?" Janson had already continued his movements. There was nothing sexual about the word itself, but _the way he said it_ was more than enough. 

"Umm," he paused awkwardly, "sir? Sorry it just slipped out," 

"Don't apologise- I like it" Janson had a smirk on his face, as if completing a long-awaited task. It was so fucking hot. Thomas hated that he was allowing himself to be manipulated like this, but he told himself it was only temporary. He could let his guard down for a few minutes. 

He was so, so close and after not being with anyone for God knows how long, he needed the release. Thomas closed his eyes. 

"No- look at me" Janson growled, grabbing his hair and yanking it back so Thomas had to look him in the eye, "you're so pretty like this, Thomas..."

Again, the teen didn't think he'd be this into it, but fuck, Janson knew exactly what he was doing. He was beginning to think that he'd definitely done this to guys before, probably many times. He made sure to maintain tense eye contact through the fog of arousal.

Thomas bit his lip, but his mouth fell open in a moan. Janson took advantage of that by reconnecting their lips, feeling the younger boy gasp into his mouth and scrabble at his shirt. 

"Oh God, sir, ahh" Thomas groaned in a strained voice as he came, arching his back slightly while it washed over him. He played into Janson’s clear need to be in control, authoritative. He felt Janson release his hair and slide his hand out of his jeans. 

"I... what was that?" Thomas asked once his zip was done up. 

Janson shook his head, genuinely smiling at this, "always with the questions, you are". 

Janson leaned in again to kiss him, hand on his hip this time, not restricting him. Thomas was vaguely unsure of what to do. With a sudden burst of energy, he pushed back and swung his leg over Janson's hips, straddling him as their kiss continued. It was softer than before, and the angle was much better. He had no idea why he'd let the assistant director get him off. He'd felt trapped, sure, but not trapped enough to the point where he had no choice. Still, he wasn't one to back down. 

Thomas, determined as ever, reached down for Janson's belt, trying to undo it but two bigger, stronger hands stopped him. 

"No. I touch you, you don't touch me, alright?" Janson confirmed. Thomas nodded after a moment’s hesitation. He failed to see the logic in that but it didn't matter much. 

"You should get some sleep, it's late" Janson prescribed after glancing at his watch, pushing the teen easily off his lap and standing. Thomas slid to the floor and just about managed to land on his feet. 

Thomas glanced back at the mystic deck of cards, "I might stay here for a while". 

"That wasn't a request, Thomas, don't want you poking around where you don't belong, do we?" he joked, but he sounded like an irritated high school teacher. Not that Thomas remembered any of his. Had he even been to school? 

Janson put his hand on Thomas's shoulder blade and began steering him toward the door. They were almost there when Thomas stopped in his tracks, still a little disoriented. Janson almost walked right into him. 

Thomas turned, "I still don't get this plac-" he started but the air was knocked out of his lungs as Janson grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him effortlessly up against the wall adjacent to the door. He grunted, hands coming up to battle him off. His attempt was lacklustre and vain. The trapped feeling was back. 

"We've told you everything you need to know, Thomas," Janson's voice was calm and low, despite his physical animosity toward the boy. 

Thomas's brow furrowed, mere minutes before, he'd been hopelessly attracted to this man and, boy, he didn't want to admit that he still was. The proximity wasn't helping. Indignance rose like a blush on his face, "that's just it though, you haven't told us anything" 

Janson scoffed. 

"We don't owe you an explanation as to how we do things, just know that you and your friends are safe" his words were reassuring, his tone told him otherwise, "just remember; there's no escape, Thomas, so don't make this any worse for yourself. And this goes without saying, but don't tell anyone about this little... encounter" Janson looked him up and down as he said this before releasing him from the wall and marching out of the room. Thomas let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. 

What the fuck had just happened? He decided not to dwell on it, it was probably a manipulation tactic or something. The idea that something worse was happening behind the scenes sickened him. He had to know what was behind that door, and warn the others about the danger. Of course though, he'd have to omit certain parts of how he, uh, came to this conclusion... 

On the plus side, Thomas's insomnia was miraculously cured.

**Author's Note:**

> This made no sense and I’m defo going to hell...


End file.
